


Playing with fire

by gothikmaus



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Bodyswap, Episode Related, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Revelations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-29
Updated: 2019-06-29
Packaged: 2020-05-29 16:54:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19404337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gothikmaus/pseuds/gothikmaus
Summary: "Really, angel? Six thousand years and you choose this moment?"





	Playing with fire

"You do realise this idea is utterly bonkers, don't you?"

"Yes, I'm perfectly aware of the risks this plan entails."

Aziraphale had spent the whole bus ride back to London thinking about it. Agnes's words were as nebulous as they had always been, but he was quite sure the fire she was referring to wasn't just a figure of speech.

"And you really think my lot will send a revenge squad to obliterate you with hellfire?"

"Well, I can't be sure of that, can I?" Aziraphale huffed. "Agnes is never straightforward with her prophecies. But why else wording it that way?"

Crowley thought it over for a moment.

"You just want an excuse to strut around in my fabulous body."

Aziraphale burst out laughing. He couldn't believe he had almost lost this. Yes, finding out his dear old bookshop had gone up in flames had broken his heart, but an eternity without Crowley? It would have been unbearable.

"So, how do you propose we go on about this?"

"Wait. Before we do this, there's something you should know."

"Really, angel? Six thousand years and you choose this moment?"

"Hush."

Aziraphale stepped closer and wrapped his arms around Crowley. The demon stood very still.

"I still think you go too fast. But I wouldn't share this ride with anyone else."

Before Crowley could reply, he was enveloped by Aziraphale's celestial aura. The angel was making him feel all the things he couldn't express with words. It was powerful. It was overwhelming. It was also a bit terrifying.

Crowley gingerly put his arms around Aziraphale and did the same, letting his aura expand and blend with the angel's until it was engulfing them both.

In that moment, it was suddenly clear they would never fit in with their respective sides again. No one else in Heaven or Hell had spent the previous six millennia on Earth, mingling with the locals, getting tangled in their small everyday dramas and slowly growing fond of that planet and its silly, clueless inhabitants as Aziraphale and Crowley had done. No one else could possibly understand.

They only had each other.

***

As he came back to his senses, Aziraphale found himself in a tiny, dark cell, damp and smelling unpleasant. Every fibre of his being was twitching, as if hundreds of ants were crawling under his skin, and he instinctively knew he was not supposed to be there. He realised he must be in Hell.

After a first moment of panic, his mind went to Crowley. The angels must have dragged him up to Heaven. Aziraphale still remembered that night in 1941 (how could he _ever_ forget?), Crowley unable to stand still within consecrated ground and having to battle with himself just to be in a church. What if he spontaneously combusted as soon as he stepped Upstairs?

He started to think he may have made a terrible mistake. But who would have thought it would be their own people exacting their revenge on them?

He heard footsteps approaching and a key turning in the lock. Oh, well. Too late now.

***

Aziraphale couldn't believe his eyes. Michael, the Archangel Michael, working with the forces of Hell, helping them carry out their revenge against "the traitor". He had been feeling guilty for the whole six thousand odd years he had been on Earth: first the sword, then his agreement with Crowley. But this, this was a whole new level of "consorting with the enemy". He had to stifle a bitter laugh.

Well, he was going to put on one hell of a show.

***

Meanwhile, in Heaven, Crowley was only one step away from strangling the Archangel fucking Gabriel. How dare he treat Aziraphale like that? No wonder the poor angel was so self-conscious and always second-guessing himself. And all that from the people who went around babbling about peace and love and "turning the other cheek". But when things got personal, it looked like Aziraphale's superiors weren't that much different from his.

Crowley barely managed to suppress a grin. Those angels were in for a heavenly surprise.

***

Sitting on the bench, listening to Aziraphale gleefully recount his adventure in Hell, Crowley realised once again how much he loved his angel. It was no use denying it any longer. Aziraphale had gone and made the impossible happen. Demons were not supposed to feel love. They had lost that privilege when they had rebelled against the Big Boss and been banished from Heaven. Yet this seemingly insignificant angel, ridiculed even by his own peers, had done the miracle.

Crowley knew the peaceful little bubble Adam had created was fleeting and fragile, and it was only a matter of time before Heaven and Hell would try to wreak havoc on Earth again. But until then, he was determined to enjoy every second spent on that ridiculous planet he had come to call home.

"Let me tempt you to a spot of lunch?"

Aziraphale's delighted expression seemed to make the sun shine brighter. Crowley was grateful he was wearing his faithful sunglasses: his demonic reputation would suffer terribly if anyone saw the look of utter adoration in his eyes.


End file.
